Her heart fluttered. In his aching, beautiful words, she almost believed that there was more between them than desire. Yet that could not be true. They had this, a visceral need and attraction—

and that’s all they could ever have. 8th Wing and scavengers didn’t mix unless blackmail was involved.

She didn’t want to think any of that. All she wanted was him, and the pleasure he offered. She tilted her head back so he could touch her hair even more and to give him better access to her mouth.

He took advantage of both. She purred as he threaded his fingers through her hair, pressing his broad-tipped fingers into her scalp with exquisite pressure, and kissed her deeply.

A little pang of loss trilled some time later when he took his hand from her hair. Pleasure replaced loss as he trailed his fingers along her neck, feeling the speeding of her pulse, then caressed the bared, sensitive flesh of her chest before— oh, yes—cupping her breast.

She had small breasts, and his large palm covered her completely. The thin fabric of her blouse offered hardly any barrier between her flesh and his. His heat seared her, the rough skin of his hand rubbing against her beaded nipple. Silk gently abraded, and she arched into the sensation. He swallowed her gasp as he tugged the fabric down, baring her, and he gently but firmly took her nipple between his calloused fingers.

The energy and concentration she had grown to admire over the past few days was now solely directed at her—and it would have been frightening, if she hadn’t reveled in it.

He pulled back from the kiss just enough to stare down at her with smoldering eyes. With her breasts bared, pressed above the fabric of her corset, her mouth swollen from kissing, she probably resembled an Auroran courtesan. And she didn’t care. Delighted in it, to see the answering hunger in his face and his barely leashed body.

“You devastate me.” He sounded like a beast straining at its leash.

“Good,” she answered, because he did the same to her.

He stared at her, only just holding himself back. “Tell me what you want, Mara.”

“If I said I wanted you to stop, would you?”

“Yes.” The word was a guttural scrape, and he looked tortured by the thought. Yet she understood that he would honor her wishes. “Don’t tell me to stop.”

She not only trusted him, she trusted herself. She had the strength to yield control. It was hers to bestow or take away.

“Don’t stop.”

His mouth twisted, almost savage, then he bent and took her breast into his mouth. She barely held back a cry as she clutched his head to her. His tongue swirled over her nipple, teasing it into even greater sensitivity. The bristle on his cheeks rubbed against her flesh. The same ritual was repeated for her other breast, and soon she writhed against the wall.

“More.” She pushed him back just enough to peel the shirt from him, and he stood, gleaming and taut, a celestial map of male glory etched in muscle and bone. She couldn’t stop herself. She ran her hands over his gorgeous body, feeling his power at the same time that he shuddered beneath her touch.

She finally understood the scars that marked his flesh. A pilot wouldn’t have sustained wounds like these, but a street brawler, determined to fight his way to a better life, would. So she stroked and caressed him everywhere, silken muscle and knotted scars, and everything that he was felt beautiful.

She ran her hand down the corrugations of his abdomen, and his hand captured hers before she could go lower, to the straining length of his cock pressing against the front of his pants.

“You deserve to get all the mileage you can.” He held her tightly, almost brutally. “Don’t want this test flight over too soon.”

He moved her hand so that she clutched at the ridges of his back, then he laughed darkly when she moved her hand down to seized the tight muscles of his ass.

“I like what I feel,” she murmured. “Up to now.”

He took that as the challenge it was, and, with a growl, he kissed her once again. No choice but to fall into it, a reckless, headlong plunge into desire.

A moan escaped her as she felt the rough pads of his fingers on her bare thighs. He’d teased her with gentle strokes in the club. Now his touch was bold, seeking. Both assertive and sensitive, he stroked her shaking muscles, until she felt on the verge of going mad from need.

His fingers delved under the hem of her skirt, then higher. When he brushed the outside of her panties and found them damp, he growled at the same time that she whimpered. He stroked the fabric before dipping beneath to touch her flushed, wet sex. She surged at the contact, and when he rubbed against her clit, she bit him.

But even with her skirt bunching around her waist, he fought to get the best angle to touch her.

Finally, with a frustrated growl, he tore her panties. The ripped fabric drifted to the floor. Then his hand covered her fully, his fingers stroking between her lips, his thumb on her clit. His other hand gripped her waist, holding her to the wall, otherwise she would have collapsed in a heap of ecstasy.

He held her that way, pinning her as he worked her relentlessly. Sensation overwhelmed as she felt herself gleam with pleasure, crazy with desire. She clawed at his back.

“Gods, Kell.” She panted into his mouth. “Yes. Just like that. Yes.”

The orgasm tore through her like a supernova, heat and light and release. She would have fallen to the ground if he hadn’t held her in place against the wall. Her cry could have been heard from one end of the solar system to the other, but she didn’t care. It was so good.

When she could open her eyes, she saw him staring at her, licking his fingers. Watching his tongue lap up her juices set her body aflame, and she wanted him so badly she shook with the force of it.

“I’m going to fuck you, Mara.” His gaze burned her. “Here. Now.”

“You’d better,” she managed to gasp, and was rewarded with his low laughter.

“All 8th Wing get the xalina vaccine.” Which meant that he couldn’t carry or transmit any of the social diseases that once plagued soldiers.

“And I have the Tawaret chip implant.” No children for her, thank you very much.

Their gazes locked, both understanding at the same moment that there would be nothing between them, only his skin to her skin.

They both tangled with the button and zipper on his pants, and he moaned in relief as his cock sprang free. She licked her lips. His cock was thick, curved and perfect. She reached for it, but he batted her hand away.

“I’m in command here.”

“Are you sure about that?” Deliberately taunting, she leaned against the wall and angled her hips up so he could see her slick pussy.

He cursed, something crude and raw, and she loved it. This was the man without control, and she was the woman who made him lose it. Power coursed through her.

His hands gripped her thighs, lifting her up. She felt the slight raised square on one of his palms —the chip that allowed him to fly a Black Wraith ship. That detail fluttered away as he braced her against the wall, his strength taking all of her weight. Then he drove into her. Gods. He filled her almost to the point of pain, but that gave the sensation an extra edge, and already she found herself at the very beginnings of another climax. When he started to move, thrusting with deep, hard strokes, the orgasm broke in long, liquid waves.

“Can’t…stop…coming.”

“Won’t let you stop.” He spoke through clenched teeth. His hips drew back and then surged forward.

She moaned, the wall hard at her back, Kell hard against and within her. Her legs wrapped around him. She barely noticed that she was almost completely dressed, from her gauntlets to her boots, but what consciousness she could spare for this element pushed her orgasm even further, longer. It felt as if pleasure burned her from the inside out, until nothing would be left but a charred shell—and she didn’t mind that at all. This was the best way to meet eternity.

He was fierce and relentless, his strong body moving, words of praise and demand tumbling from him as he fucked her with brutal, tender purpose. No one had made her feel this way before. No one touched her as he did now, knowing what she needed and what she craved without having to say anything.

“Come.” She dug her nails into his shoulders. “Come inside me. I want that, Kell.”

“Yes…Mistress.”

She almost laughed, but the sound was lost as he groaned out his release. She felt it, the heat of him spilling within her, shockwaves moving through him, through her.

For some time, they remained as they were: panting, sweat-slick, Kell still deep inside her,

holding her tightly to the wall as her arms and legs wrapped around him. Clasping him to her as if she feared letting him go.


They draped across the bed, still partially dressed. Neither had the strength to adjust their clothes or take them off, so all they could do was lie there, temporarily sated, as evening began to fall.

She lay on her stomach, he on his back. Their hands drifted, brushing against each other, creating little fires of sensation. It was warm and comfortable and intimate.

“I was a princess,” she said.

He turned his head to gaze at her, expression opaque. “On Argenti.”

“The Skirens are one of Argenti’s finest and oldest families.” Faint ridicule shaded her words.

She had heard that phrase most of her life, and almost believed it was inscribed upon the family’s crest. “Involved in all levels of the government. Upstanding citizens. One of my great-great-grandmothers is on a cred card. Our annual Solstice Gathering is broadcast to every corner of the planet.”